The Structure of Change
by CJ10
Summary: She had known that spending the summer at Grimmauld was not the best of ideas, considering she would be the only female there. She had not expected it to muck up her life so completely, though, and force her to realise that nothing ever stayed the same.


Disclaimer: Harry Potter is property of J.K. Rowling and I am not making money on this.  
Not HBP compliant and AU in the sense that Sirius never fell through the Veil.

--

**THE STRUCTURE OF CHANGE**

--

**ALPHA**

_This is the stage when everything seems to fit -- the subject (individual, corporation, or culture) is functioning successfully within the current life conditions._

_Alpha is often an illusion -- nothing is ever really stable._

--

Two weeks.

She had watched the world descend into madness in the span of two, mere weeks. It was entirely possible that it was she who had, in fact, gone mad, but Hermione could not be bothered to make the distinction.

It might've been the house that was responsible for it all, and this would not surprise her in the least, but she sincerely doubted it. While it had seen its fair share of dark magic in its days, it had long since been stripped bare of any and all threatening and obscure items, ready to fully serve its new purpose.

Number twelve Grimmauld Place, Headquarters to the Order of the Phoenix, remnant of the Noble House of Black, refuge for all that fought on the right side, and home to a man who had twice defied death.

But no, this latest insanity which had her with her hands twisting in her hair and teeth grinding in frustration could be solely blamed on its current occupants.

Whatever had made her believe that she could spend the entire summer in one house with six hyperactive, hormonal males and come out unscathed – let alone sane?

To be fair, she could not really place the two adults in that category. Remus was, for instance, perfectly pleasant, often calling the others on their disruptive behavior and shooting her apologetic looks as if to excuse them. He really was fast on his way to becoming a dear friend.

Now Sirius, that was another matter entirely. He was an adult, yes, but she would in no way call him responsible. At times he could be even worse than the boys, and that was saying something. The man had always held a penchant for disorder and the presence of his teenage guests had only highlighted this personality trait, it seemed.

Burrowing deeper into the overstuffed armchair, Hermione surveyed the den with suspicion. It had suddenly turned awfully quiet and not even the sound of heavy boots could be heard thudding up and down the stairs.

The brief thought that maybe they were up to something flitted through her mind, but she immediately dismissed it. She couldn't, in all good consciousness, question the boys absence when she had purposefully gone looking for a peaceful and quiet afternoon.

Casting one last investigative glance in the direction of the hallway, she gave a mental shrug and turned her attention back to the book in her lap. Within minutes, she was once more drawn so into the words on the pages that the rest of the world was lost to her.

She had no idea how much time had passed when she was pulled back to the present again by the solid weight of a hand on her shoulder and, startled, she jumped slightly and twisted around to stare into the amused face of her former professor.

"Merlin, you nearly gave me a heart attack," she scolded lightly, but ignoring her disgruntled pout, he could see that she was not genuinely annoyed at him. Even in her fright, she had been careful enough to place a finger on the page which she'd been reading and thus had no problem returning to it, immediately continuing where she'd left off.

Any other would acknowledge her silent dismissal, but Remus was curious what had managed to capture her interest. She could feel him lean over her shoulder to read for himself.

Nothing out of the ordinary, of course. He loved literature as much as she did, if not more. But as he read the passage aloud, she could've kicked herself for not anticipating this.

"Sometimes I am alive because with me, her alert treelike body sleeps, which I will feel slowly sharpening, becoming distinct with love slowly," he began slowly, speech coming out haltingly as he tried to get the strangely structured sentences out smoothly. He seemed so focused on this, she suspected that the meaning of them had not yet sunk in.

The urge to snap the book shut became almost unbearable, but she resisted. It would only make things more awkward – if possible.

He continued, settling on a flow that satisfied him. "Who in my shoulder sinks sweetly teeth, until we shall attain the Springsmelling intense large togethercoloured instant. The moment pleasantly frightful, when her mouth suddenly rising, wholly begins with mine, fiercely to fool."

Hermione was holding her breath now, and she felt the exact moment that Remus' breath hitched as well. Nearly unavoidable, really, with his face so close to hers. It did surprise her that he insisted on finishing the poem, though, and that she really wanted him to do so as well. She had not gotten this far before the interruption.

"And from my thighs which shrugs and pant a murdering rain leapingly reaches the upward singular deepest flower which she carries in a gesture of her hips."

As the poem ended, he pulled himself up to his full height again, clearing his throat. "Interesting reading, Miss Granger."

Heat was rising to her cheeks and she knew the blush only incriminated her more, but it couldn't be helped. "Yes, er, I suppose…"

He'd rounded the armchair she was seated in and was standing off to the side, fervently cleaning his glasses with the sleeve of his pullover. The fact that he was apparently just as uncomfortable as her was reassuring, but this was not a situation she had considered herself in, especially not involving her former professor.

Admittedly, she'd imagined them in quite some other situations… but that was beside the point entirely. No use to dwell on such things, no sir.

Time to diffuse the situation. Think, Hermione, think. Where is that overdeveloped mind they keep praising you for, huh?

"Early Christmas present gift from a friend back home – a collection of Muggle poems, it's quite interesting, actually," she babbled, twisting her hands nervously in the fabric of her velour sweatpants.

"I see."

"This one… E.E. Cummings really is one of my favorite poets after Brokoski. Have you heard of him? No, I guess you haven't, being a wizard and all. But he just has this essence of depicting a picture of raw, human emotion-"

"Miss Granger."

"Granted, he has the tendency of becoming quite crude at times-"

"Hermione," he insisted and she glanced up to find him grinning faintly. "It's quite alright."

Oh. Well… of course it was. It _was_ just a poem, after all. There was still something lingering behind his eyes, though, and she decided to hold her tongue. Sure enough, he kept going.

"I seem to keep forgetting that you are an adult now," he admitted, albeit a bit sheepishly. "It takes some time to get used to. I can still remember the first time that studious thirteen year old walked into my classroom."

Endearing words, but for some reason, it did not make her feel any better. Knowing that the man you used to have somewhat of a crush on still considered you a child was not something to revel in.

A change of subject was definitely in order.

"Have you seen the others?"

The slight frown suddenly marring his features told her all she needed to know. She was not the only one that sensed upcoming mischief. "I saw them traipsing around out back earlier and decided to steer clear of that area for the time being."

She nodded gravely. "Wise decision."

"I like to think so," he shot back pleasantly, thoroughly enjoying the light banter even if it did revolve around the other males currently residing in the household. The ease that once more appeared between them reminded him of his reason for seeking her out in the first place. "It is nearly six and I actually came to ask you if you had any preference for dinner tonight."

Shooting a surprised glance at the grandfather clock on the other side of the room told her that it was indeed five thirty-five. Had she been reading all this time? Now that she considered it, she was rather hungry. Still, she couldn't resist teasing him a little. "And here I thought that you just wanted to catch me buried in illicit literature."

The quirk of her lips alerted him of her lighthearted intent and he could find no reason not to participate. "But that would imply that I would suspect you capable of committing such an act."

"Which you did not, of course."

"You? Never, Miss Granger," he feigned shock, though his eyes were sparkling with amusement. "I would've thought you much too sober for such a thing."

Putting aside the book and rising up to her feet, she made of show of looking disappointed, even going so far as to throw in a minor scowl. "And now my perfectly crafted image has been foiled," she complained. "All my hard work has been for naught."

This got a bark of laughter out of him. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

Cracking a grin in return, she followed him out the door and towards the kitchen. A rather loud rumble let her know just how famished she was and had her stopping the werewolf near the staircase. "How do you feel about take away tonight?"

She actually felt a bit guilty for saddling the man with kitchen duty during the summer, seeing as she was a worthless cook and none of the other men were eager to volunteer. He didn't seem to mind, but that nagging feeling refused to go away and during her short stay, she'd already made quite a few phone calls to various restaurants, it being her only way of helping out.

The look he shot her let her know that he was well aware of this but he chose not to comment. "Pizza?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of Thai."

"Very well," he conceded. "Shall I go take orders?"

Hermione grimaced. "I'm going to go with a _no_ on that one."

"Concerned for my safety?" he teased, both remembering the incident a week prior when the others had been behaving this docile. The twins had apparently brought quite an arsenal of Weasley's Wheezes, as they'd lovingly dubbed them, with them and proved themselves to be quite adept at booby trapping. Hermione and Remus had shied away from the third floor recreational room for a couple of days.

Hermione scoffed lightly at his suggestion. "More like my own sanity. It wouldn't survive the summer should my only ally keel over as a result of unexplained causes."

Chuckling, he left her to run upstairs and retrieve her mobile phone to make the call.

The sun was unrelenting as it bore down on her. She was currently perched on the heated stone of the sidewalk across from the house, waiting for the delivery guy to arrive, and bored out of her mind as she did so. Even the flurry of activity around her did not manage to uplift her and she just stared blankly at the horde of kids running around playing some game or another.

On the phone, they had told her it would take about half an hour for them to deliver it, but it was well over forty five now and she was getting anxious.

And to top it off, some of the preteen boys playing football seemed to find humor in kicking the ball in her direction. They'd gotten in three direct hits before she'd surreptiously taken out her wand and charmed the ball to practically fly up to the moon as she'd given it a rather vicious kick. There weren't any cars driving out and that was the only thing she cared to take notice of as she sighed in relief, glad to see the boys running to retrieve it.

She wasn't cruel, just a little ticked off. And nobody messed with a ticked off Hermione Granger, not even unwitting, nine-year-old children.

Another five minutes passed and just as she was in the process of taking out her mobile phone again, a scooter came zipping around the corner and slowed to a stop across the street. Immediately, she was on her feet and making her way towards it.

"Excuse me," she called out, catching the man's attention as he took off his helmet and was in the process of checking the address. "Are you from Kong Kha?"

He looked up in surprise, but as soon as he caught sight of her, it changed into a charming smile. "That's right, miss," he told her, unfailingly polite even though he was quite a few years older than her. He was twenty-five, maybe twenty-six. "I've got an order for number thirteen Grimmauld."

"That's me."

She had to give them an address, after all, and since there officially was number 12…

"How much will it be?"

Taking out the receipt, he recounted the number and she took out her wallet. She had been prepared to spend the summer in Muggle London and was therefore the only one carrying Muggle cash with her. Someone had to be the responsible one.

Handing over the correct number of bills, she took the bags from him with a murmured, "Thank you".

He shrugged his shoulders pleasantly. "I should be thanking you. It's been a long day and it's nice to find such a pretty girl waiting for me at my last delivery." It was said with a cheeky grin and the compliment had her cheeks turning red from something other than the stifling heat. "Good way to end the day, I should say."

"Oh, well… thank you."

Very eloquent, Hermione, she scolded herself, but it wasn't everyday that someone flirted with her, let alone so shamelessly. And, really, she had to admit that he was rather cute. Tall, blue eyes, and a good-natured smile.

A pause followed in which she would've loved to just turn around and disappear inside, but she couldn't. Not with him watching, at least, because that was exactly what was going to happen. As soon as she stepped over the threshold, she was going to disappear. Not all that inconspicuous. So she was left standing there, staring at him stupidly and unable to find something to say.

Fortunately - or unfortunately, whatever the case might be – he seemed quite content with just hanging around on the sidewalk with her. Scratching the back of his head with one hand and sending bashful glances at the ground, he reminded her of a boy on the verge of asking a girl out.

It hit her that she was the only girl in the vicinity. Oh. Oh!

"Like I said earlier, this is my final delivery," he started cautiously, eyeing her closely to monitor her reaction. "And maybe if you've got some time later tonight, after you've finished eating, of course," he gestured towards the take out food, "You'd like to go and do something together?"

Her mouth opened and closed in astonishment, unable to respond. The second time that day that she was rendered speechless. What was wrong with her?

"It doesn't have to be tonight," he quickly added, looking too adorable for words as he fumbled a bit with what to say. "We could go see a movie or whatever, your choice."

"That's… sweet-"

"Sweet? That's not a good sign, is it?"

"No, no, it's just that I've...," a good excuse, a good excuse, "already got a boyfriend."

His face fell and she felt bad, but she just wasn't all that interested in dating. Not right now. She already had too much to worry about to take on a quasi-boyfriend as well.

"If I didn't, I would go out with you in a heartbeat," she tried to console him, and the half grin tugging at his lips told her it was working. It had also given him new hope, apparently.

Fishing a pen and a rumpled napkin out of his pockets, he quietly scribbled something down then held it up for her inspection. "Is it readable?" he asked and at her nod, he went to hand it over, but she already had her hands full with the bags, so he dropped it into one of those instead. "When something happens and the bloke doesn't treat you right, dump his arse and call me."

He chuckled at her surprised look before getting back onto the scooter once more. A couple more smiles and goodbyes later and he was out of sight, leaving her staring after him dumbly.

Well, that had never happened to her at Hogwarts.

Shrugging off her daze, she went back inside, praying the food hadn't gone cold in the meantime, and made her way into the kitchen.

"Hermione!"

Ignoring the overenthusiastic greeting, she made her way over to the table and deposited the bags on top of it, shooting a grateful look in Remus' direction. He'd apparently saved her the trouble of rounding up the others as they were now all congregated in the kitchen, as well as having put down plates and cutlery beforehand.

He just nodded in acknowledgement, seated quietly at the head of the table while the others were laughing and joking rambunctiously around him.

"What did you get?" Ron inquired curiously, sniffing at one of the containers experimentally. "Chinese?"

"Thai."

A delighted sound from her right had her looking at Harry strangely, but he just gave her a half hug, digging into his already filled plate eagerly. "I love you, you know that, right?" he told her through a mouthful of stir-fried shrimp and she cringed at the sight.

"What, because I bring you food?"

"Better yet," he corrected her, swallowing loudly and throwing her a lopsided grin. "You bring me _Thai_ food. No offense, Remus."

"None taken."

Waving off his antics, she could see that Fred had found the tiny spicy sambal containers in the bottom of the bag and was inspecting them curiously. She could see realisation dawning and as if a light had been switched on, his eyes suddenly held a glee that nearly scared her. With a covert glance at his unsuspecting twin, he subtly palmed the containers and they disappeared under the table.

Hermione was not letting him near her plate, that much was sure.

Ron had gotten over his reservations as well, it seemed, and was shoving generous spoonfuls into his mouth like a starving man.

Everyone was so focused on the meal, it was Sirius that finally broke the silence that had descended upon them. "I've been to Thailand once," he commented casually, busying himself with the spring rolls.

"Really? How was it?"

He grinned roguishly at her. "Hot."

She rolled her eyes. Typical. She was about prod him for more information when he frowned all of the sudden, staring at the napkin in his grasp.

"Who the hell is Thomas?"

Recognising the napkin, she quickly snatched it from him, hiding it from view. "Err, no one."

The dark-haired man was staring at her in surprise now, brows nearly rising up into his hairline at the blush staining her cheeks. "Then why is he giving you his phone number?"

This caught the others' attention as well. The twins started cooing, Ron looked unsure of its significance and Remus just smiled sympathetically. Harry understood perfectly, though, and looked like he was about to start ranting on the dangers of unknown men, so she beat him to it.

"It was just the delivery man, stop overreacting."

Her friend refused to drop it. "He was flirting with you? How old was this bloke?"

"Twenty-six, maybe."

Ron, having finally caught up, did a double take. "Hermione, he's way too old for you!"

Sirius made to interject, but was completely disregarded.

"Are you going to see him again?"

Their attitude was slowly starting to grate on her nerves, not to mention her ego. Was it so hard to believe that someone would show an interest in her? And what if she did want to go out on a date with him? She didn't, but that was her choice to make. "If I want to see him again, Harry, I will," she told him matter-of-factly, eyes daring him to contradict her. Throwing her hands up in the air, she shook her head in amazement at the ridiculous argument. "Honestly, I don't even know why we're discussing this! I told him I had a boyfriend, anyway, so he won't be expecting a call."

"Did you hear that, Fred?"

"Sure did, George," his brother teased back. "Our Hermione just admitted to having a crush on someone."

"What?" she sputtered incredulously. "I did no such thing!"

"I always knew she had a bit of a thing for me."

"Only because she mistook you for me, dear Fred."

Sirius was leaning his chair back on its hind legs, ankles crossed on the table's surface as he surveyed the scene unfolding before him with obvious enjoyment. The highly annoyed look on Hermione's face amused him to no end. The girl was just too easily riled and he didn't mind in the least. It only made it easier for him to get her all worked up, especially when one knew which buttons to push.

Lifting his plate into his lap, he chuckled as the twins simultaneously waggled their eyebrows at Hermione, making her even more flustered.

"Aw, do you see that? She's blushing."

"I love blushing women."

"Admit it, love," Fred cooed, leaning over the table to give her a leering grin. "You are madly in love with me."

Letting out a decidedly ungraceful snort, she pushed him away from her and back into his seat, shooting glares around the table. "You're delusional. First of all, I am old enough to make my own decisions. And second, I am, most certainly not in love, nor do I harbour a crush. Let alone for anyone in this room!"

The somewhat disappointed look on Ron's face went unnoticed by all except for Remus, who gave the boy a comforting pat on the back. Deciding that the poor girl had suffered enough for one evening, he opted for an intervention. "Would anybody like another drink?"

"I believe a firewhiskey is in order, Remus," Sirius told him, unable to hold back his grin as his friend rolled his eyes at his antics. "And seeing as our Miss Granger here is now _old enough_, I say we let her have her first taste of it as well."

The look on her face was the epitome of indignity and she ignored her friends' snickers. "Who says I have never had any before?"

It was a boldfaced bluff, though, and he was quite correct in his assumption. She had never found much use in liquor and generally stayed away from it, except for the occasional frilly cocktail at Muggle birthday parties.

The man's grin only widened. "Our wonderfully innocent golden girl? I sincerely doubt it."

Remus chuckled quietly only to be immediately silenced by a dark look from Hermione.

"Where's that drink, then?" Sirius barged on undeterred and unaware as always. "Two glasses, if you please."

"Hey, what about us?" Ron piped up, Harry nodding eagerly beside him.

Sirius squinted his eyes at the boys. "How old are you, Weasley?"

"Just turned seventeen in March, remember," he told him proudly. "We're legal now!"

"I'm sure the ladies'll be thrilled, but I know for sure that my godson is still an incredibly handsome piece of jailbait." Clapping his Harry on the chest, he watched as the boy's face fell in disappointment. It reminded him of himself at that age. Of course, he and his friends used to have their own ways of getting their hands on liquor and had already spent more than a couple of nights drunk off their arses in the Gryffindor common room before turning seventeen.

Sirius knew he was supposed to be the responsible adult now, but really, he couldn't find a good reason to refuse them a drink. Turning to Remus, who was watching him warily, he grinned. "How about it, mate? Shall we let 'em have a sip?"

"I don't know if that's such a-"

"You're right, Moony, as always! Just get everybody a glass and leave the bottle."

Remus seemed unsure if this was exactly wise, but still acquiesced. At least he was there to make sure nothing happened to them and he could not very well refuse them the drink when they were in the position to acquire it for themselves.

Throwing a glance in his friend's direction and noting that he was busy trying to locate the stash of firewhiskey, Sirius turned back to the girl with a coy wink. "Don't worry, love, I'm quite experienced in corrupting pretty girls and introducing them to _first times_."

Hermione turned bright red, showing she had indeed heard him correctly, but unfortunately for him, Remus had caught the comment as well. In one smooth move, he'd kicked the back legs of Sirius' chair out from under him, causing the man to tumble backwards with a surprised yelp. "You should be more careful, Padfoot," he admonished lightly, setting down the glasses and Levitating the bottle towards the table as he sat himself down again across from his friend. "Chairs have four legs for a reason, you know."

Grumbling, the other man shot him a withering glare as he pulled himself off the floor and slouched back into the righted chair. The rest of the boys weren't even bothering to cover up their amusement.

"That's what you get for teasing our Hermione, Sirius," Ron told him, smiling broadly as Harry cut in.

"Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it's Remus to the rescue!"

As the Boy Who Lived clutched his side in near hysterical laughter, the twins looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. "I do believe he's finally lost it, dear brother."

George nodded sagely. "Comparing Lupin here to a bird? And what's a plane?"

Fred rolled his eyes at the silly question. "Didn't you ever pay attention in Muggle Studies? It's a flotation device to travel over the water."

"Isn't that what a boat is for?" the other shot back, frowning deeply, at which his brother only shrugged.

"Heh, Muggles. Can never tell what they're up to. No offense, Hermione."

"None taken," she deadpanned, looking downright miserable as she listened to their inane exchange while avoiding glancing in Sirius' direction. Every time she did, he would catch her gaze and either wink or grin knowingly, making her blush return full force. Damn that man, he derived way too much enjoyment from her discomfort.

"I wonder," Fred suddenly turned pensive, tapping his lips with his forefinger in mock thought. "Don't girls have a thing for chivalrous men?"

"Correct you are. Like flies to a lamp. Bees to honey. Neville to plants," George ranted, grinning as he caught on. "In my opinion, Professor Lupin here is quite chivalrous. Always sticking up for our damsel in distress-"

"Who are you calling a damsel-"

"Aha!"George exclaimed all of the sudden, supported fully by his vehemently nodding twin. "Remus is Hermione's crush!"

Ron's eyes went wide as saucers, Harry felt a bit bad for his female friend but was enjoying himself to much to put a stop to it, and Sirius… Well, he took this rather seriously, actually. Resting his elbows on the table, fingers stapled together and brows drawn together, he seemed to be considering the possibility of the girl having a crush on his best mate.

He spared a look at the sputtering girl, noting her embarrassment, then glanced at Remus, who appeared deeply engrossed in his dinner, trying to hide his own slight blush at the mere suggestion.

"It is possible, yes," he began, ignoring the way all heads suddenly snapped in his direction. "But highly improbable."

Remus was watching him with suspicion now, eyes narrowed in a way that showed he did not take the implied insult lightly. "And why, exactly, is that?" he sounded dangerously calm, but Sirius knew better. He did not, though, know well enough to keep his mouth shut.

The others were eagerly awaiting his reply, while Hermione just looked on warily, completely helpless to stop the absurdity.

Inclining his head as if graciously humoring their curiosity, Sirius gave a knowing grin. "Because, my dearest friend, if she has a crush on anyone here, it would be me." He shrugged as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "It would explain everything."

"Arg!" she couldn't take it anymore. Picking up her still full glass of firewhiskey, she downed it in one gulp, acting quickly before she lost her nerve. It took all of two seconds for the alcohol to hit her. Her body shuddered and her eyes watered as her throat seemed to be on fire, burning a way through her insides and oh god, that stuff was strong.

Now she knew she'd been right in avoiding that drink in particular.

Ron and Harry seemed duly impressed, having both only drank themselves through half a glass with careful sips, while the twins were already refilling her glass, having made a bet on how many of those it would take to get her completely pissed.

Both adults looked quite proud, though Remus tried for a disapproving frown.

"They weren't meant as shots, darling, but good idea nonetheless," Sirius smirked, downing his own drink without blinking. "You always were a brilliant witch."

She only grimaced. "If it helps me drown out your ridiculous chatter, it's a lesser evil I'm willing to indulge in."

A hand flew to his chest dramatically, covering his chest with a pout. "The lady wounds me!"

"And I'll injure another part of your anatomy if you don't quit making fun of me."

Tisking, he attempted to look dead serious. "Matters of the heart are no joke, Hermione."

"You are incorrigible!"

"Ah, but you love me for it," he replied with a charming grin, showing off a row of perfect teeth one might see in a Muggle toothpaste advert. "Just admit it, love, Harry will understand."

The aforementioned young man shifted in his seat awkwardly, not really feeling all that comfortable with the suggestion. He knew that Hermione was nearing her boiling point and thought it wise to dismantle the situation before it got out of hand. "Remus, do you need a hand clearing the table? I feel like if I take another bite, I'm going to explode."

"Me too!" Ron jumped up, to everyone's surprise, and started stuffing the containers back into the bags, much to the disappointment of the twins. Remus and Sirius shared an amused look while the latter protectively clutched his own plate to his chest as his godson made a grab for it.

"Hey, sod off, you," he gave the boy a playful push, which Harry reciprocated and in an instant, the two were wrestling in earnest.

Hermione rolled her eyes for what seemed like the umpteenth time and ignored her friend's pleas for help as Sirius managed to get him in a headlock, urging him to beg for mercy.

"Men," she muttered, throwing an apologetic glance at Remus. "No offense."

With a heavy sigh, the werewolf shook his head listlessly. "None taken."


End file.
